bookbashuk Chapter 30 Ambassador in Black
Chapter 30 Ambassador in Black
Stepping out of the military camp, one finds a scene of flames everywhere and wreckage scattered across the ground. Siege engines, requiring dozens of men to push together, are slowly being propelled by soldiers toward the first gate of the Château de La Valédi. The massive wooden structure is studded with arrows that were just shot down from the city walls, resembling a giant hedgehog covered in feathers.
The ballistae on the ground continuously returned fire at the ballistae on the city walls, hoping to suppress these most threatening weapons. With each shot, the ballista's bow groaned as the wood strained to its limit.
The air was filled with a complex odor, the kind only found on a battlefield: the smoldering tar, the charred human hair, the churned fresh earth, the blood splattered on the ground, and the smell of that blood rising in the morning light. If some evil god existed, it would surely consider this its favorite spice.
"You know, Mr. Ambassador..."
On the battlefield, Foltest wore a striking red outfit, with gilded decorative armor encircling him like a necklace, its plates adorned with lily patterns. A thick crossbow bolt flew over his specially made crown-shaped helmet, startling the black-clad, goatee-wearing ambassador beside him, who crouched down in fright.
"Your Majesty! It's too dangerous here! Perhaps we should find another place to talk." The Grand Envoy straightened his crooked silver-rimmed glasses with his black lambskin gloves, trying to maintain the composure befitting an imperial envoy. However, when the third burning crossbow bolt shattered the observation flag ten yards away, his voice still rose an octave uncontrollably at the end.
The hem of his impeccably tailored black silk coat was splattered with mud, and a golden sun embroidered badge that should have shone on his chest was now half covered in mud, making it look like a sun in the midst of an eclipse, looking embarrassed.
Foltest turned abruptly, his iron-plated boots clattering heavily on the rammed earth platform. He looked down at the imperial envoy, who was still kneeling on the ground, and flicked away the smoldering tatters of cloth from his cloak with his war-blackened fingers.
This northern king appeared far more relaxed on the battlefield than the black-clad ambassador from the warlike Nilfgaard Empire.
“Don’t worry,” Foltest said, his tone as casual as if discussing the vintage of a bottle of Toussaint wine. “The bow limbs of these ballistae are made of bronze plates with excellent toughness, and the bowstrings are crafted by our master artisans from carefully selected horsehair intertwined together. However, its drawbacks are also quite obvious…”
The second crossbow bolt struck Foltest in front of him, raising a cloud of dust, but the king remained motionless. When the dust settled, a crossbow bolt with its fletching pointing upwards was found embedded less than two feet in front of the toe of his boot.
"That's because the excessive recoil makes it impossible to hit the same spot twice," he calmly added. "Two consecutive shots usually result in a deviation of more than five feet. So you see, I'm actually safer standing here than back in my tent—if La Valéry's men wanted to pin me here with their ballistae, they'd already used up two shots. Where the next shot will land, only the goddess Meritari knows."
The ambassador, leaning on the sandbags, slowly and sheepishly rose to his feet. The hem of his black silk coat was covered in mud, yet he still managed to smooth the wrinkles in his collar with his hand adorned with an emerald ring. As an envoy of Nilfgaard, he could not allow himself to do anything that would disgrace the Empire—even if his face was almost entirely covered in mud.
"It seems that the scholars of Vijima should bestow the engineering chair upon His Majesty."
His compliment carried the cloying sweetness characteristic of the Nilfgaardian court, "However, allow me to remind you that the Empire's fire scorpion catapults can travel from eight hundred yards away..."
"And then you'll have your alchemists turn the entire battlefield into a volcano with liquid fire, is that it?" Foltest suddenly burst into laughter, a laugh that startled the soldiers carrying arrows nearby. "Five years ago, your ambassador used the same tactic to frighten Henselt of Cordwin, and what happened? He unceremoniously annexed Aden's territory as well. So please forgive me, Ambassador, the threat of the Empire has become as worthless to me as a Redanian copper coin."
The black-clad envoy's face instantly darkened, even more so than his coat, but years of diplomatic training allowed him to quickly adopt a formulaic smile—a smile like a pre-sewn collar from a court tailor, ready to be slipped around the neck when needed: "Your Majesty's concern for neighboring countries is admirable. However, what we need to discuss today is..."
"It seems you still don't know me well enough," Foltest interrupted him. "Just like how I know so much about ballistae, only because the ones displayed on the city walls are birthday gifts that I specially brought from Vigema two years ago for Louisa."
At this point, the king's expression darkened slightly, a darkening that was something very personal, one that even Forrest himself probably didn't realize betrayed him. Louise, that was the name of Baroness La Valéry, and the mother of his several "illegitimate children"—though he absolutely forbade anyone to use that word in his presence.
He immediately masked that moment of genuine emotion with sarcasm.
"So when these ballistae are firing at me now, I know every single flaw in them. Those cables need to be loosened after twenty consecutive shots, otherwise they'll break on the twenty-first. How many shots do you think they've fired yet, Mr. Ambassador?"
The black-clad messenger's expression turned even uglier than before.
"Your Majesty, I meant..."
"Alright, I don't want to hear you say any more." Foltest interrupted the ambassador again with a mocking expression. He was already getting tired of talking to this vulgar man from the South. But soon, the sight of two people approaching in the distance lifted his spirits somewhat.
"Oh! Look who's here, our Witcher Masters, and two of them at that."
Two fully armed witchers attract attention wherever they go, not only because of the two obviously dangerous longswords on their backs, but also because of their beast-like eyes. As they approached, even the black-clad ambassador, who had been trying to maintain his diplomatic composure, unconsciously took a half-step back, although he almost immediately realized his lapse and quickly covered it up by adjusting his collar.
"Geralt! And this one too..."
Foltest waved his hand, causing the soldiers around him, who had instinctively tensed up, to sheathe their drawn swords and retreat.
"Kiliam, Your Majesty."
Kiliam bowed slightly, performing a reasonably proper courtly gesture. The angle of the bow was just right—not too impolite, but not too much either.
"Oh right, Gillian! My royal advisor told me you're quite famous and a friend of Geralt, so I'm glad to meet you."
Foltest seemed full of energy and completely unconcerned about the Witcher, whom most people considered a freak. He patted Gillian on the shoulder warmly and shook Geralt's hand.
His hands were broad, yet his grip was remarkably restrained; he did not attempt to assert royal power in the cheap way one might crush someone's fingers during a handshake. This elevated Kilyam's opinion of the king even further.
"Well, you've finally arrived. While you've been dawdling, the rebels have practically boiled the tar on the city walls. Follow me, gentlemen."
Clad in full armor, Foltest strode swiftly ahead, leading the group to a massive siege tower. This tower was incredibly tall, even surpassing the outer walls of La Valedi Castle. La Valedi Castle, a crucial border fortress between La Valedi and Redania, boasted walls far exceeding the height of ordinary cities.
"Uh..." The Nilfgaardian envoy had to strain to look up to see the top of the engineering tower. He knew that the King of Temuria had brought him here specifically to showcase his country's engineering capabilities.
"Forgive my bluntness, Your Majesty. But I must ask, what will ultimately be the fate of the royal illegitimate children?"
Foltest turned his head with a frown.
"Bastards? They are my children!" The king's voice was even louder than the previous laughter. "If anyone ever mentions the word 'bastard' in front of me again, I might ask the Witcher Master to demonstrate how to dissect the throat of a Nilfgaardian envoy."
Faced with the king's threat, the Nilfgaardian ambassador did not show any fear, for he knew that the Empire's heavy fire scorpions could instantly turn this massive engineering tower into the largest torch in the North.
Then their king, covered in water, will be able to crawl out of the flames and pay homage to the emperor of the empire.
"Your Majesty, please forgive me." The ambassador's etiquette was impeccable, preventing Foltest from venting his dissatisfaction further. He even bowed, lowering his head to an almost humble angle. The more perfect this posture was, the more it resembled a mockery.
"However, the law governing succession is undeniably clear..."
"To hell with the law!" Fortest had completely lost interest in playing along with the so-called ambassador in front of him and cursed out loud.
"I will change them if necessary; in any case, I will not allow a bunch of unreliable barons to use my children as tokens."
"Your Majesty certainly has the right to do so."