The Witcher: Lord of the Empire

Beneath the Three Lions banner of Cintra, the Cintran advisor Mousesack and the druid Fritjof raised their arms in unison. Each held an oak staff horizontally before their chest, surrounded by vibrant and flourishing natural energy.

Mousesack rode upon Black Wind, while Fritjof was mounted on a Skellige giant bear nearly 2 meters tall at the shoulder. Even during a forced march, both beasts allowed the druids on their backs to sit as if on level ground, enabling smooth spellcasting.

As their chants echoed out, dark clouds rapidly spread across the sky, forming a dense blanket that completely obscured everything above. This allowed Lann to approach the enemy in secret, flying two dragons straight into position with overwhelming force—yet without alerting a soul.

By the time both dragons reached the top of Fort Ortagor and let out thunderous roars, only then did the Nilfgaardians realize what was happening.

…

Lann straddled Saskia's neck, gripping two thick bone spikes—perfectly sized for his hands—for balance. His Great Griffon cloak whipped wildly in the fierce wind.

"We're going in, Saskia."

"Raaaoo—ROOOAR!!"

Transformed into her dragon form, the draconic maiden let out a long, resonant cry and dove down through the clouds. Water vapor clung to her and Lann's bodies, while flames ignited within their chests.

Beside them, the red dragon Keltullis—whom Lann had summoned back from the edge of the Mahakam Mountains—couldn't hear his voice, but upon seeing his signal, lowered her body in sync with Lann and Saskia.

With a deep woooosh, the thick clouds were blown apart from within by the massive creatures bursting through. The sky suddenly swelled outward before caving inward under collapsing pressure, forming two colossal vortexes.

The two dragons descended like harbingers of calamity.

The Nilfgaardians craned their necks upward, nearly snapping their spines just to see what loomed above.

The green dragon in the lead, even beneath the gloomy clouds and without sunlight, shimmered with golden motes across her entire body. She looked like a centuries-old tree that had sprouted wings and bone spurs, elegant in form yet emanating the primal killing intent of ancient forests.

Trailing slightly behind, the red dragon made no effort to hide her savagery. She was far larger than the green dragon, wrapped in smoky mist cooled by extreme heat, as though molten lava flowed just beneath her brick-red scales—awaiting only the moment to erupt in fury.

The two dragons plummeted like meteors, their graceful descent belying the deadly power they carried.

When the sheer pressure of their looming mass consumed all vision—when the Nilfgaardians, driven by the terror of a collapsing sky, fled in blind panic—the dragons suddenly flared open their wings, letting the air resistance steady their bodies.

[WHOOSH!]

Every Black Sun banner atop the fortress flared out violently in the gale.

Duke de Wett's eyes went wide in shock. He could scarcely believe what he was seeing—there was a person sitting atop the green dragon's head.

Silver-black armor. A Great Griffon cloak. Golden hair.

It was Lannister—the Lion of Cintra.

And he saw the man's lips move ever so slightly.

...

"Dracarys!" Lann ordered Saskia.

"Raaaaargh!!"

That enormous maw—wide enough to swallow an entire command tent—opened wide. For a brief moment, searing flames churned inside, then—

[BOOM!!]

Heaven's fire descended. A raging blaze swept across everything, and the Black Sun flags were incinerated to ash in an instant.

"—Run! Run for your lives!!—"

Only now did the Nilfgaardians react, panicking in all directions. Some even tumbled off the fortress walls—more than ten meters high—in blind desperation.

But most were caught in the wall of fire. Engulfed before they could even scream, they were charred to the core—burned from the inside out.

Saskia and Keltullis each took a side of the fortress wall, gliding along while unleashing torrents of dragonfire. With heads lowered, they charged from end to end. With each wingbeat adjusting their flight, massive explosions of fire echoed—BOOM! BOOM!—as their flames laid waste to everything in their path.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lann saw nothing left on the stretch of wall ravaged by Keltullis. Not a single human form remained. Flesh, steel armor—even the stone base beneath the walls—had melted, turning into molten rock that dripped down in streams.

On the other side, while the destruction wrought by Saskia wasn't as visually dramatic, her green dragon's breath carried toxic fumes that were even more devastating on a battlefield.

That section of the wall was now wreathed in sickly, multicolored haze. Even nearby units outside the wall were already staggering and gasping for air.

"Well done, Saskia," Lann praised her. "Let's keep going!"

Encouraged, Saskia beat her wings with even more force. Her massive frame carved a smooth arc through the sky, swiftly pivoting midair—then, with all the ancient fury of a primeval beast, she charged back toward Fort Ortagor once again.

[BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!]

A cascade of explosions followed. The fortress's remaining two walls were soon engulfed in sea of fire, incinerated by dragonflame.

Nilfgaard had completely lost all four fortress walls.

"Damn it! Damn it! That's Cintra's own fortress, for gods' sake!"

Duke de Wett stomped in fury, shouting aloud.

Soldiers were trained for killing other men. Even facing beasts like griffins or fork-tails usually threw them into disarray. But this—this was something else. Two flying fortresses raining fire from the sky?

To ride dragons into battle—this was something unheard of, not just in military history, but in all of human history.

"What kind of war are we even fighting here...?"

Yet de Wett quickly pulled himself together. As a noble who had survived the chaos of the Usurper's reign, his mental fortitude was, in some cases, stronger than the officers around him.

It's just... just dragons, he told himself.

Dragons could be killed. The title 'dragonslayer' was rare—but not unheard of. Duke de Wett himself had issued a few such commissions in the past. His private vault still held gemstones taken from dragon lairs.

He had even hosted banquets for dragonslayers, listening to their boasts and tales of conquest.

Like a bolt of lightning cracking through his mind, Duke de Wett snapped back into focus. With a fierce slap, he struck his dazed adjutant so hard the man spun half a circle on the spot—jolting him back to his senses.

"Sound the horn!" the commander of the Western Army roared, grabbing the adjutant by the collar and yelling into his ear. "Get the infantry and spearmen to the outer perimeter! Block the Cintrans! All archers, form ranks and shoot at the sky!"

"Turn every catapult and siege crossbow upward—there are only two dragons, dammit!!"

...

Saskia suddenly adjusted her flight path midair, her draconic neck tilting slightly. Lann held tightly onto the bone spurs to keep from falling back, tossing his head to clear his wind-blown golden hair from his vision.

"Oh? So they've started responding?"

Watching as archers gathered and various massive siege weapons began to come alive, Lann patted Saskia's flank seriously.

"Be careful when the time comes—but the plan doesn't change."

The Western Army had no sorcerers, but having half-transitioned into a logistics corps, they lacked no resources. In this regard, they far outmatched the Eastern Army, who had rushed across the Yaruga in a forced march.

Still, this was all within Lann's expectations.

Nilfgaard's military discipline was among the finest on the Continent. Even under the oppressive presence of two dragons in the sky, they could still relay orders and form ranks.

[Click-clack-clack—]

The archers' hands trembled, but they still pulled their bowstrings taut, aiming upward at the flesh-and-bone fortresses in the sky.

Their commander raised his signal flag high, taking deep breaths to keep his throat from shaking uncontrollably.

[FWOOOSH!]

Once again, the dragons dove toward the fortress. Their wings beat the air like crashing waves, thickening the sky with pressure.

"FIRE!!"

The commander slashed his right hand downward.

A rain of arrows shot skyward in a sweeping barrage.

...

Beneath the banner of Cintra's Three Lions.

Hooves thundered across the ground.

Mousesack and Fritjof watched Lann and the two dragons wreak havoc atop the fortress walls in the distance.

"Truly magnificent," Fritjof said with heartfelt awe. "You're quite lucky, Mousesack."

Mousesack stroked his beard and chuckled. "Alright, alright. Lann and the others have begun. That means it's our turn to follow up!"

The two druid mentors straightened their expressions. Their chanting grew faster and more rhythmic, crashing in waves like a storm tide.

"Wind!"

[WHUMP!]

The already overcast sky changed again.

Chaotic streams of natural energy swirled through the air. Colliding pockets of unstable pressure produced only one natural result—gale-force winds.

Every flag abruptly shifted direction. The flames already burning high suddenly surged taller with a loud WHOOSH, and the archers, their eyes too delicate for such force, were immediately forced to shut them.

The arrows in flight, once fierce and menacing, were thrown into disarray by the sudden turbulence.

Saskia beat her wings once.

[Clink-clink-clang!]

Metal arrowheads bounced harmlessly off her thick dragon scales, making a sound that was almost pleasant to the ear.

They couldn't even leave a scratch.

The first wave of ranged attacks was easily deflected, but this was no time to relax.

The druids' weather magic had only cleared the field of arrows—it was crowd control at best. Lann's focus had never left the truly dangerous threats.

[Click-clack-clack—]

A giant siege ballista, so large it required four men to crank two winches just to aim, was locking onto Saskia. The bolt it carried was as thick as a grown man's arm, gleaming with a deadly cold light.

This was a real threat to a dragon—a weapon that could genuinely kill!

[WHOOOOSH—]

The air shrieked as it was pierced.

Over a dozen of the massive bolts surged through the sky toward Saskia in unison.

She beat her wings violently, veering in midair with surprising agility, avoiding the bulk of the barrage.

But her massive size, for all its power, came with limits. And when so many bolts were fired, luck was always on the side of one of them.

Duke de Wett stared, unblinking. The most vulnerable part of a dragon was its wings. One clean hit—and the creature would never fly again!

And that green dragon—had Lannister standing right on its head!

Once grounded, the rest of the siege weapons could do the rest. Even nets and blades, with enough manpower, could cut down a dragon—and the Lion of Cintra with it!

Duke de Wett clenched his fists tightly.

And just as he held his breath in anticipation, watching the one bolt that had tracked the dragon's movement better than the rest...

Lannister vanished from atop the dragon's head.

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