The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Karl charged down the low slope on his armored warhorse, the armor plates making a dense metallic scraping sound. His sixteen guards spread out in a wedge formation, their lances level, the tips forming a cold line in the morning light.

The purple square flags tied to the front of the lances stretched taut in the wind as the regular army advanced simultaneously on both flanks. Crossbow bolts were fired from behind the infantry at the Nilfgaardian positions, and three Nilfgaardian crossbowmen were pinned to tree trunks during the reloading interval.

As the guards charged into the flank and rear of the ambush formation, the rubble on the ground vibrated. Their lances pierced through the shields, and with the remaining speed, they lifted the guards off the ground and sent them flying, crashing into the back of the infantry ranks in front.

The overlapping cracking sounds resembled shattered ceramics. The Nilfgaardian lines completely broke apart, the shield wall shattered into isolated fragments, and the scattered soldiers tried to escape into the depths of the forest, only to be intercepted and killed one by one by the regular troops pressing in from both sides.

Karl's visor was blurred by splattered blood. He pulled it off with one hand, instantly turned his lance, and charged at the last remaining enemy who were trying to break through the encirclement.

Several Nilfgaardian soldiers, still struggling to crawl into the forest, had their spines broken by the high-speed hooves of the royal guards, their bodies hanging from the edges of tree roots.

The three Nilfgaardian squads, totaling over forty men, were all wiped out except for the one that Ron himself had cleaved in two by the combined assault of infantry and cavalry charges.

Miko walked around the collapsed shield wall and crouched down beside Cole, who was lying face down next to the shield fragments, clutching a broken spear in one hand and gripping the hilt of his sword in the other.

His face was obscured by mud and blood. Miko gently raised his hand and sheathed his sword in the cloak beside him.

Ron walked to Cole's body and paused for a moment on the broken armor plate on his chest.

No one spoke. Cole's body, wrapped in a purple cloak, lay quietly on the stretcher.

The prisoner was led to the roadside and, during questioning, tremblingly confessed that the transfer order was issued by the quartermaster. Ron told Miko to keep the quartermaster's communication fragments safe, gave a hand gesture to the soldiers guarding the prisoner, making it clear that the prisoner should not be kept, and then mounted his horse.

There were no lights in the quartermaster's tent. By the time the news reached the Central Army camp, it was already afternoon. The light coming in from outside the tent only illuminated half of the long table and the transfer order on it, the ink on which had long since dried into a matte finish.

Tawa Aigbraj neatly folded the transfer order, along with the list of scrapped materials retrieved from the crow's nest, tore it into even, small pieces in his palm, and threw it into the fire basket beside him.

He took off his glasses, pressed his finger on the lens, then pulled open a drawer and took out a leather bag containing several stacks of florins, which he sealed together with the gold triangle pendant next to it.

With all three heavy infantry squads wiped out, he knew he had no chance to defend himself. This was not a simple mistake; he had used his experience with ordinary troops to assess an opponent who should not have been assessed by common sense.

This was originally the perfect opportunity: the Baron's departure, the chaotic period after the transfer of power, all that was needed was to get rid of Ron and put the sergeant in charge.

Making the largest warlord in the Velen region his agent was enough to secure the guild's reinstatement, but now everything has failed.

He packed his belongings and took advantage of the break between officers to leave the tent, walking deeper into the swamp along the stone path behind the warehouse that led to it.

At noon, Ron returned to Crow's Nest. The group moved slowly, and the stretchers were carefully carried across the wooden bridge to avoid the wounded from being jolted and tearing their wounds.

When the sergeant saw Ron at the barracks entrance, his expression froze instantly. His hand stopped at his waist as if he was about to pull something out, but his hand trembled and he didn't grasp anything.

Ron didn't ask any questions, but simply gave the order, "Detain the sergeant."

Several regular army soldiers stepped forward, pulled the sergeant out of the barracks gate, tied his hands behind his back, and made him kneel on the stone floor of the courtyard.

The sergeant struggled to lift his head, his gaze sweeping over the old soldiers who had once drunk with him, but no one moved, and no one spoke up for him.

The baron's seal has been handed over to Ron, and the documents bear the baron's signature. He possesses none of the qualities of law, righteousness, power, or prestige.

Hans stepped out of the ranks, stood in front of the sergeant, and reported the time the sergeant met with outsiders late at night, the change in patrol direction, and the whole process of how he told Ron about it.

The sergeant's lips twitched. He tried to say things like, "This is a frame-up. Is there any evidence?" several times, but they all turned into silent gurgling.

Carl led his men to search the sergeant's quarters and found secret letters between him and the quartermaster and a small box of florins under the bed. The results of the search were laid out next to the prisoners' confessions.

Ron did not hurl insults or offer any further abuse; the execution was simple and swift, and the sergeant's body was taken away and disposed of afterward.

Ron summoned all the troops stationed at Raven's Nest, lit torches around the central courtyard, and the soldiers lined up in the courtyard.

"Patrols and defense will continue as usual; anyone who colludes in private will be punished equally."

Hans was promoted to captain, replacing Cole. His hands were still trembling slightly when he received the appointment letter, but his chest was straight and he stood up straight.

Ron handed Cole's scabbard and the new captain's first patrol order to him. Hans hung Cole's scabbard on his belt, the longsword standing upright.

Cole's body was transported back to Carradine Estate for burial. His grave was on the north slope of the estate, facing the narrowest part of the river, where the water-powered forging hammers were running day and night.

At the funeral, Cole's body was wrapped in a purple robe, and his longsword was placed beside him as he was buried. Soldiers held the swords and watched their comrade being buried.

Ron stood before the grave, offering no words, but simply watching quietly as Cole's name was carved into the bluestone and nailed to the tombstone.

Miko held his sword and gently turned it a quarter turn so that the side facing north was facing north; this was his last act of guard duty in place of the deceased.

The first formal funeral at Calade Manor ended in the manner of a warrior.

Several days later, in the Crow's Nest Hall.

Erwin placed the notepad on the table and opened to the first page. He had ridden from the manor early that morning, and his glasses were still fogged with water droplets. Ron sat opposite him and pushed aside the transfer order he had just signed.

"Let's talk about the wine first." Erwin's finger landed on the first line.

"Currently, the winery's beverages are mainly sold to Crossroads Inn and Seven Cats Inn near Novigrad. Both of these are located at major road junctions with stable customer traffic, and the cooperation model is unified supply."

The Crossroads Inn stationed a small team for protection, avoiding the risk of being robbed by bandits. We have a fixed return every quarter, and the remaining small amount of goods are consumed by nearby trading villages.

He turned to the next page: "A new variety, the first batch of fruit wine from the Elf Winemaker has come out of the cellar, and Ms. Kayla and I are the first to taste it."

Of course, Lady Keira is quite authoritative in this regard. As the former chief sorcerer advisor to the King of Temeria, satisfying her tastes is no easy task.

She rated the fruit wine as being of quality worthy of being sold to the nobility of Burger and Novigrad. Oh, and by the way, she took the wine back to her bedroom, saying things like, "Don't ask too many questions about sorcerer matters..."

Regarding naming, considering Redania's aversion to non-human races, it is recommended to avoid using the word "elf" and instead name it after the material or its origin. Names like Blackberry Mead, Calard Wine, or simply your surname are also acceptable.

"Blackberry mead," Ron said, "the label has the estate coat of arms, but no mention of elves."