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paid me homage as a vassal - but without coercion! He did it to protect his country because,
on a fine day, he can see Nilfgaardian lances flashing on the left bank of the Yaruga!'
'And we are talking about the left bank,' drawled out the Queen of Lyria. 'The bank we are to
strike. And the left bank is Cintra. Destroyed, burned out, ruined, decimated and occupied . . .
but still Cintra. The Cintrians won't bring you their crown, Foltest, nor will they pay you
homage. Cintra will not agree to be a vassal state. Blood, not water!'
'Cintra, if we . . . When we liberate it, should it become our joint protectorate,' said
Demawend of Aedirn. 'Cintra is at the mouth of the Yaruga, in too important a strategic
position to allow ourselves to lose control over it.'
'It has to be a free country,' objected Vizimir. 'Free, independent and strong. A country which
will be an iron gateway, a bulwark to the north, and not a strip of burned ground over which
the Nilfgaardian cavalry will be able to gather speed!'
'Is it possible to rebuild such a Cintra? Without Calanthe?'
'Don't get all worked up, Foltest,' pouted Meve. 'I've already told you, the Cintrians will never
accept a protectorate or foreign blood on their throne. If you try to force yourself on them as
their lord the tables will be turned. Vissegerd will again prepare his troops for battle, but this
time under Emhyr's wings. And one day those detachments are going to assail us in the
vanguard of a Nilfgaardian onslaught. As the spear point, as you just vividly described it.'
'Foltest knows that,' snorted Vizimir. 'That's why he's searching so hard for this Lion Cub, for
Calanthe's granddaughter. Don't you understand? Blood not water, the crown through
marriage. It's enough for him to find the girl and force her to marry '
'Are you out of your mind?' choked out the King of Temeria. 'The Lion Cub is dead! I'm not
looking for the girl at all, but if I
were ... It has not even occurred to me to force her to do such a thing '
'You wouldn't have to force her,' interrupted Meve, smiling charmingly. 'You are still a
strapping, handsome man, cousin. And Calanthe's blood runs through the Lion Cub. Very hot
blood. I knew Cali when she was young. When she saw a fellow she liked, she leaped up and
down so fast that if you put dry twigs beneath her feet they would have caught real fire. Her
daughter, Pavetta, the Lion Cub's mother, was exactly the same. So, no doubt, the Lion Cub
has not fallen far from the apple tree. A bit of effort, Foltest, and the girl would not be long in
resisting. That is what you are counting on, admit it.'
'Of course he's counting on it,' chuckled Demawend. 'Our king has thought up a cunning little
plan for himself! We assail the left bank and before we realise it our Foltest will have found
the girl, won her heart and have a young wife whom he will place on the throne of Cintra
while her people cry for joy and pee in their knickers for happiness. For they will have their
queen, blood of the blood and flesh of the flesh of Calanthe. They will have a queen . . . albeit
one who comes with a king. King Foltest.'
'What rubbish!' yelled Foltest, turning red then white in turn. What's got into you? There's not
a grain of sense in your prattling!'
'There is a whole lot of sense,' said Vizimir dryly. 'Because I know that someone is searching
for the child very earnestly. Who, Foltest?'
'It's obvious! Vissegerd and the Cintrians!'
'No, it's not them. At least, not just them. Someone else is, too. Someone who is leaving a trail
of corpses behind them. Someone who does not shrink from blackmail, bribery or torture . . .
While we are on the subject, is a gentleman by the name of Rience in any of your services?
Ah, I see from your expressions that either he isn't or you won't admit it which comes to
the same thing. I repeat: they are searching for Calanthe's granddaughter, and searching in
such a way as to make you think twice about their intentions. Who is looking for her, I ask?'
'Hell!' Foltest thumped his fist on the table. 'It's not me! It
never occurred to me to marry some child for some throne! After all, I '
'After all, you have been secretly sleeping with the Baroness La Valette for the past four
years.' Meve smiled again. 'You love each other like two turtle doves and just wait for the old
baron to finally kick the bucket. What are you staring at? We all know about it. What do you
think we pay our spies for? But for the throne of Cintra, cousin, many a king would be
prepared to sacrifice his personal happiness '
'Hold on.' Henselt scratched his beard with a rasp. 'Many a king, you say. Then leave Foltest
in peace for a moment. There are others. In her time, Calanthe wanted to give her
granddaughter's hand to Ervyll of Verden's son. Ervyll, too, might have caught a whiff of
Cintra. And not just him . . .'
'Hmm . . .' muttered Vizimir. 'True. Ervyll has three sons . . . And what about those present [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
paid me homage as a vassal - but without coercion! He did it to protect his country because,
on a fine day, he can see Nilfgaardian lances flashing on the left bank of the Yaruga!'
'And we are talking about the left bank,' drawled out the Queen of Lyria. 'The bank we are to
strike. And the left bank is Cintra. Destroyed, burned out, ruined, decimated and occupied . . .
but still Cintra. The Cintrians won't bring you their crown, Foltest, nor will they pay you
homage. Cintra will not agree to be a vassal state. Blood, not water!'
'Cintra, if we . . . When we liberate it, should it become our joint protectorate,' said
Demawend of Aedirn. 'Cintra is at the mouth of the Yaruga, in too important a strategic
position to allow ourselves to lose control over it.'
'It has to be a free country,' objected Vizimir. 'Free, independent and strong. A country which
will be an iron gateway, a bulwark to the north, and not a strip of burned ground over which
the Nilfgaardian cavalry will be able to gather speed!'
'Is it possible to rebuild such a Cintra? Without Calanthe?'
'Don't get all worked up, Foltest,' pouted Meve. 'I've already told you, the Cintrians will never
accept a protectorate or foreign blood on their throne. If you try to force yourself on them as
their lord the tables will be turned. Vissegerd will again prepare his troops for battle, but this
time under Emhyr's wings. And one day those detachments are going to assail us in the
vanguard of a Nilfgaardian onslaught. As the spear point, as you just vividly described it.'
'Foltest knows that,' snorted Vizimir. 'That's why he's searching so hard for this Lion Cub, for
Calanthe's granddaughter. Don't you understand? Blood not water, the crown through
marriage. It's enough for him to find the girl and force her to marry '
'Are you out of your mind?' choked out the King of Temeria. 'The Lion Cub is dead! I'm not
looking for the girl at all, but if I
were ... It has not even occurred to me to force her to do such a thing '
'You wouldn't have to force her,' interrupted Meve, smiling charmingly. 'You are still a
strapping, handsome man, cousin. And Calanthe's blood runs through the Lion Cub. Very hot
blood. I knew Cali when she was young. When she saw a fellow she liked, she leaped up and
down so fast that if you put dry twigs beneath her feet they would have caught real fire. Her
daughter, Pavetta, the Lion Cub's mother, was exactly the same. So, no doubt, the Lion Cub
has not fallen far from the apple tree. A bit of effort, Foltest, and the girl would not be long in
resisting. That is what you are counting on, admit it.'
'Of course he's counting on it,' chuckled Demawend. 'Our king has thought up a cunning little
plan for himself! We assail the left bank and before we realise it our Foltest will have found
the girl, won her heart and have a young wife whom he will place on the throne of Cintra
while her people cry for joy and pee in their knickers for happiness. For they will have their
queen, blood of the blood and flesh of the flesh of Calanthe. They will have a queen . . . albeit
one who comes with a king. King Foltest.'
'What rubbish!' yelled Foltest, turning red then white in turn. What's got into you? There's not
a grain of sense in your prattling!'
'There is a whole lot of sense,' said Vizimir dryly. 'Because I know that someone is searching
for the child very earnestly. Who, Foltest?'
'It's obvious! Vissegerd and the Cintrians!'
'No, it's not them. At least, not just them. Someone else is, too. Someone who is leaving a trail
of corpses behind them. Someone who does not shrink from blackmail, bribery or torture . . .
While we are on the subject, is a gentleman by the name of Rience in any of your services?
Ah, I see from your expressions that either he isn't or you won't admit it which comes to
the same thing. I repeat: they are searching for Calanthe's granddaughter, and searching in
such a way as to make you think twice about their intentions. Who is looking for her, I ask?'
'Hell!' Foltest thumped his fist on the table. 'It's not me! It
never occurred to me to marry some child for some throne! After all, I '
'After all, you have been secretly sleeping with the Baroness La Valette for the past four
years.' Meve smiled again. 'You love each other like two turtle doves and just wait for the old
baron to finally kick the bucket. What are you staring at? We all know about it. What do you
think we pay our spies for? But for the throne of Cintra, cousin, many a king would be
prepared to sacrifice his personal happiness '
'Hold on.' Henselt scratched his beard with a rasp. 'Many a king, you say. Then leave Foltest
in peace for a moment. There are others. In her time, Calanthe wanted to give her
granddaughter's hand to Ervyll of Verden's son. Ervyll, too, might have caught a whiff of
Cintra. And not just him . . .'
'Hmm . . .' muttered Vizimir. 'True. Ervyll has three sons . . . And what about those present [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]