The forest stretched in every direction, its vastness offering solitude, but not peace. The campfire had burned down to embers, and the only sounds were the distant howls of wolves and the rustling of leaves in the night breeze.
Kael sat motionless, eyes fixed on the documents spread before him. The information he had stolen from the Blue Boars was damning—a roadmap to their operations, a clear indication that their ambitions were larger than simple banditry.
But now came the hard part.
What to do next. He had three options.
Go after their supply lines – Cutting off their provisions would weaken them, force them to move, make them desperate. But that would take time, and he wasn't one for prolonged campaigns.
Wait and gather more intelligence – Let them move, track their patterns, strike when they're exposed. But with the Scoia'tael involved, time was not a luxury. They were already working toward destabilization.
Eliminate their leadership – Strike at the head, let the body rot. Remove the key figures keeping the remnants together, and the Wild Boars would collapse into infighting and disorder.
The last choice was the most direct, most effective.
Kael exhaled, stretching his arms before reaching for his waterskin. 'Taking out their leaders would cripple them. But it won't be easy'
He needed to move carefully, plan his attack well.
This wasn't like the Blue Boars' outpost—he would be walking into the heart of their operation, where their strongest fighters were gathered. He'd have to fight smarter, not harder.
But there was one more thing.
If Queen Meve had expected him to handle a group of bandits, that was one thing. But this was no longer just about rogue Nilfgaardians looting villages—this was a conspiracy and conspiracies cost extra. Meve had promised him a sum for eliminating the bandit threat, but the stakes had changed.
Now, he wasn't just cutting down brigands—he was preventing another war. That meant more coin.
A small smirk touched Kael's lips.
He would take his time clearing out the Wild Boars, but once he returned to Rivia, the reward would be far greater than what had been initially agreed upon.
For now, though, he had a hunt to prepare.
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The path to the stronghold wound through dense forests, overgrown trails, and long-abandoned roads. Kael moved with practiced ease, avoiding patrols and keeping to the shadows. The map he had taken from the Blue Boars' camp and the details he had memorized from Queen Meve's war table helped him navigate.
Once a proud keep guarding the trade routes between Lyria and Mahakam, it had been left to ruin during the Nilfgaardian war. Now, it served as a fortress for outlaws, reinforced by deserters and mercenaries.
The castle's location made a frontal assault impossible. It sat atop a rocky ridge, surrounded by thick woods and steep cliffs, with only two known entrances—a fortified main gate and a narrow pass that could be easily defended.
'They chose well'
But Kael wasn't going through the front door.
He would move carefully, avoiding the scattered outposts and small encampments that dotted the approach. Striking at them would only raise the alarm. Instead, he would stick to the least traveled paths, using the Boars' own map against them.
As he traveled, Kael collected herbs, crushed ingredients, and prepared his alchemical tools.
The nights he spent hidden in the wilderness weren't wasted—by the time he was within a day's reach of the fortress, he had crafted the necessary potions and oils for the mission ahead.
Hanged Man's Venom – Effective against humans, it would make every cut deadlier.
Thunderbolt – For when speed and strength mattered more than caution.
Cat – The castle would have plenty of dark places. Seeing in the dark would give him an advantage.
And Swallow – Because no fight ever went exactly as planned.
With his potions and oils ready, Kael continued his journey, his mind focused on the castle ahead. The Wild Boars had made their lair and he was going to gut them from the inside.
The Wild Boars' fortress loomed ahead, a black silhouette against the night sky. Torches burned along the walls, patrols moved in timed shifts, and distant laughter echoed from within.
Kael watched from a ridge overlooking the stronghold, hidden beneath the dark canopy of the forest. He had spent the last day mapping their movements, noting guard rotations, watchtower positions, and potential blind spots.
'Nothing left to chance'
There were two main entrances, the heavily fortified front gate, impossible to breach without raising the alarm and a narrow pass that led to the eastern wall, guarded by a watchtower and a small patrol. But he had no intention of using either, instead, he set his eyes on the collapsed section of the western wall, a weak point that had been partially reinforced but left unwatched at night due to it's dangerous nature.
His plan was precise, approach from the west, using the forest and rocky terrain for cover eliminating any isolated guards along the way—quietly. Then slip through the damaged wall, using the shadows to reach the main keep. Neutralize the leader. Escape before the alarm spreads. And after a quick check upup of his gear he moved.
Kael moved like a shadow, sticking to the uneven terrain. His breathing steady, his steps light.
The first obstacle was a solitary guard, pacing near the collapsed section. He carried a crossbow, but his posture was lazy—a man unafraid of attack.
'Wrong place. Wrong night'
Kael drew a throwing knife, aimed, and let it fly.
A soft thud—the blade sank into the man's throat. He crumpled without a sound. Kael dragged the body into the brush, retrieving the knife. One down.
He scaled the broken stonework, fingers finding purchase in the cracks. It took mere seconds before he slipped through the gap in the ruined wall.
The inside smelled of damp wood, sweat, and rot. The courtyard was cluttered with crates of stolen supplies, broken wagons, and half-eaten meals left abandoned.
A lone drunken soldier leaned against a cart, mumbling a song under his breath.
Kael didn't even waste a knife.
He stepped behind the man, covered his mouth, and drove his dagger between the vertebrae at the base of his skull. The soldier twitched, fingers spasming, before his body sagged against Kael's shoulder. Carefully, he lowered the corpse to the ground.
'Two down'
A patrol of three men passed nearby, talking in hushed tones. Kael pressed into the shadows, unmoving, waiting as they passed. He noted their armor—common brigands. Clinging to loyalties that weren't they're own.
'Fools'
He slipped past them, moving toward the keep. The leader slept inside, surrounded by guards.
He needed to be faster than their reactions. Smarter than their traps.
He was a Witcher—and they had no idea what was coming.