The soldier stared at the other man with red eyes: "Shut up, you win. Except for this card, all my cards are yours. Only this one is not allowed."

The merchant looked around and shook his head helplessly: "Okay, okay..."

The soldiers were losing interest and had no desire to spend any more time playing Gwent. As the wine got deeper, someone started banging the table and shouting in anger.

"Lord Lannister must have been ambushed by the Nilfgaardians, and Toussaint is definitely an accomplice!"

A companion beside him held down his drunken friend who was talking nonsense, shook his head and shouted to the bard at the side of the tavern: "Poet, sing a song for our Earl Lannister."

Everyone cooperated and raised their glasses: "Cheers to Lannister!"

Milo Glass nodded and began to pluck the strings: "Lannister the good, Lannister the brave, Lannister the generous, Lannister the compassionate..."

At the bar, two men dressed as soldiers were drinking. There was a circle of empty people around them. People passing by clinked their glasses, but no one came to join them.

They are Ace and House.

Only Milo Glass, who had just finished singing, came over to toast the two servants. They could be considered to have met each other barely once.

"To the Count Lion, my Lords."

Ace picked up his glass and shot back, "We're not adults."

House picked up his glass and responded, "Thank you for your song, poet. But why are you back?"

The merchant poet plucked the strings of his harp and said with a smile, "Everyone likes the songs of the Count Lion. This is the song that inspires my creation the most. And I also hope to have the honor of meeting the Count again. After all, I still owe him a drink."

Ace smiled bitterly. If Lann was still alive, he would hate these people who came over without knowing their own limits. These greedy guys stared at the sparsely populated Lannisters, always wanting to get a position or lick the crowns leaking from the generous earl's fingers.

But now the Earl is dead, and he can only sigh for the merchant poet:

"The Earl never offered wine for the sake of paying it back. He is different from those stingy knights you have met. And you will have no new themes to create in the future. Leave Cintra, poet, and don't be like those merchants who desperately want to make money from war. If you want to pay back the Earl's wine, spread his poems. A knight like him should not be forgotten."

Milo Glass smiled nonchalantly and said, "Of course the wine has to be returned. This is the rule for me... and I don't think I have no new themes to create."

After a brief conversation, the stubborn traveling poet greeted the two attendants and left, and the remaining two fell silent again.

The tavern owner poured wine for the two servants, and they drank it all in the next second. After a long time, Ace finally asked:

"Is Sword still not coming?"

House nodded. "He is now inseparable from Her Royal Highness the Princess. He fainted from standing guard a few days ago, but luckily he was found by Hardy in time. He always felt that it was his fault because he was the only one among the three of us who followed the Earl."

Ace sighed, "Do you blame him?"

House glanced at Ace and said, "What about you?"

The tavern owner poured wine for the two men, and they clinked their glasses and drank it all.

Ace suggested, "Let's get together more often in the future. The longer I spend with those officers... the more I miss the Earl."

House shook his head: "Who isn't? Those knights in the court really...there will never be another knight like the Earl.

But let's forget about getting together too often. Didn't your father help you become the captain of the city guard? Don't be so idle when you first take office. I'm also learning housekeeping from Mr. Ens now, and I should become a palace eunuch in the future."

Ace lowered his head. His former comrades had fallen apart because of the death of their sworn master. He forced himself to ask again, "Do you have any news about Mr. Geralt?"

"Queen Calanthe almost let him out of the dungeon, and it was only thanks to Advisor Mossak that he was saved. In the end, Queen Calanthe asked him to never set foot in Cintra again, otherwise she would chop off his head."

Ace sighed, "Then we may never meet Mr. Geralt again. He is also an amazing warrior."

House suddenly remembered something and said, "But Mr. Mossak seemed to have asked him to do something, probably something related to magic. The details are not something I should understand."

"Speaking of magic... doesn't the Earl have a warlock friend? What's his name?"

"I heard he was a consultant to Temeria, but I forgot his name."

…

"Triss!"

Triss was walking in the crowd when she suddenly heard someone calling her name.

Looking back, she saw a sorceress in a black and white dress, the hem of her skirt rustling. She had violet eyes, long black wavy hair that reflected the light of peacock feathers, and she exuded the familiar scent of lilac and gooseberry.

"Yennefer? I've been looking for you for many years..."

The sorceress named Yennefer twisted her snow-white neck tied with a black velvet ribbon and looked at everything in front of her in confusion. A large number of sorcerers poured into a meeting hall, and Triss was one of them.

"A warlock said that Tissaia needs my help. That man called himself Vigfortz of Logevin." Yennefer frowned and said, "What are you doing? What is the matter that requires so many warlocks to gather together?"

When Triss heard Yennefer's answer, she was delighted at first: "With you back, Dean Tissaya can really breathe a sigh of relief."

Then she explained, "We are holding a secret meeting of the warlocks of the Northern Kingdoms. Nilfgaard is unstoppable. They have already occupied Manado, and Cintra will be next!"

Everyone filed into the conference hall. Inside the hall, a middle-aged warlock who looked to be about fifty years old was talking. He looked energetic, and his brown beard was neatly groomed.

But like demon hunters, warlocks cannot judge age by appearance. This is actually a warlock who is hundreds of years old, named Artorius Vigo. He is a master of illusion and magic. His powerful strength and deep experience have won him many supporters in the Warlock Brotherhood. His prestige even exceeds that of most members of the Wizards' Council and the Warlock Supreme Council.

At this moment, Artorius was stating his views to the warlocks present: "It would be madness to go to war with Nilfgaard, and it would be even more foolish to fight Nilfgaard for Cintra! Cintra has rejected our warlocks and rejected the help of magic for decades. Now they have their wish come true."

The warlocks in the room were divided into two groups, sitting on both sides of the long table. Artorius' side was led by him and another white-haired male warlock in long robes. They were obviously the group that opposed the resistance to Nilfgaard.

Opposite them, the sorcerers who advocated taking the initiative to fight against Nilfgaard were represented by two young-looking sorcerers, a man and a woman.

The sorceress was named Tissaia de Vries, a senior sorceress, one of the five members of the Wizards' Coven, and the principal of Aretuza College, one of the only two magic academies in the world. She was dressed in a serious manner, with her black hair tied into a classic bun, and a plain low-cut long skirt that outlined her plump figure, revealing a large chest while maintaining her dignity, and her elegant aura attracted people's attention.

The warlock beside her was extremely handsome, strong, and dressed more like a noble swordsman than a warlock. He was the one who called Yennefer back - Vigfortz of Logevin.

Hearing Artorius's point of view, Vilgefortz retorted: "We are not just talking about Cintra now. Nilfgaard will not be satisfied until it has occupied the entire continent."

"How do you know?"

Viggofortz replied: "Because if it were me, I would do the same. I am the only one here who has led troops into battle. I know what the emperor of Nilfgaard thinks."

After hearing his words, the white-bearded warlock on the opposite side laughed and said, "We all know this. Whenever you get the chance, you put on your ridiculous costume and wield swords and guns and play with sticks. Over the years, you have acted more like a lowly soldier than a warlock!"

The white-bearded warlock was called Stregobor. He had pale skin, a hunched back, held a long staff, and wore a loose black robe that dragged on the ground. He looked like a warlock who had walked out of a textbook.

His words caused a lot of laughter from the proud warlocks. Viggo Fortz was a powerful warlock who had emerged in recent decades. He became a member of the Wizarding Society before he was a hundred years old and was considered one of the ten strongest warlocks in the world. However, his "eccentric young man's behavior" was always criticized by the veteran warlocks.

After hearing what the other party said, Viggofortz gritted his teeth helplessly and was about to refute when Tissaia beside him suddenly spoke expressionlessly.

The voice was cold and majestic. Many of the young warlocks present were once students of Tissaia. At this moment, they couldn't help but think of their own student days.

"No matter what Vilgefortz is like, it's better than killing babies born at the time of the eclipse. And you have been chased by one of the eclipse children who was not killed for so many years. The name of the warlock has been disgraced because of you - Stregobor."

The ridiculed warlock's face flushed instantly, but he could no longer use a disrespectful tone when facing Tissaia. The strength and prestige of the female warlock in front of him were no less than her beauty. Both were undoubtedly the top warlocks in the world.

Tissaia was not interested in watching the other party's ugly appearance anymore. Instead, she looked around and called out, "If we take action now, we can still stop Nilfgaard. The South is the South, and our Northern Kingdom should unite!"

Viggofortz waved his hand, and a huge map appeared on the table in front of him. Chaos magic gathered at his fingertips and marked the locations on the map. He said:

"If we try to persuade our king to send troops now, it will not be too late. The army can reach Soden within a week and save Acintra."

Stregobor responded: "Why? Who cares if Cintra is destroyed?"

"I care!" A warlock suddenly shouted behind Tissaya, "If Cintra perishes, my country will be next!"

Suddenly, the door of the reception room opened, and a sorceress and a group of sorcerers rushed in. The sorceress had rare short hair, wore a hollowed-out gorgeous palace dress, had snow-white skin, and was beautiful and elegant.

In sharp contrast to her were the warlocks who came in behind her. They were all wearing plain robes and were simply dressed, even with a bit of military standard.

The leading sorceress was named Fringilla Vigo, born in Beauclair, Toussaint, and served in Nilfgaard. She brought the sorceress in and broke the confrontation between the two sides, and for a while, it looked like a three-way confrontation.

This is indeed a secret meeting of the warlocks of the Northern Kingdom, but the Warlock Academy itself does not have a clear political stance. Warlocks from various countries have graduated from here, and warlocks from various countries are also allowed to return here.

And the fact that Fringilla was able to break into the meeting at such a clever time was obviously due to someone tipping her off.