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At the same time, he heard the sound of hooves clopping against the ground. Dust swirled up into the air as a lavish carriage with the emblem of a yellow and black striped shield appeared on the stone street.

The carriage stopped before the mansion. A middle-aged man who sported an exquisite beard and a phrygian cap with a goose feather protruding from its side came out of the carriage and walked up to the mansion.

“Alright. There’s Frexinet. The time is close at hand.” Roy leaped off the building and passed through a few platforms at a blinding speed. A moment later, the young witcher arrived in a quiet clearing.

***

“Granddaughter of Queen Calanthe, Lion Cub of Cintra, Your Highness Princess Cirilla, I…”

The great hall was a luxurious place shone by magical lights. Ciri looked at the man who came to see her, and she rubbed her eyes. There were dark circles under them, which was rare. She shouldn’t be losing sleep after her years on Skellige Isles, but the thought of her engagement scared her, making her insomniac.

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Your Highness, I am the governor by His Majesty Ervyll’s orders. My name is Frexinet. By His Majesty’s orders, I am to lead you to the castle.” Frexinet took his hat off, bowed down, and knelt on one knee to kiss the back of Ciri’s hand. “I shall be leading you all the way to the castle. On my life I swear that I shall take you to Nastrog safely.”

“That is enough, Mr. Frexinet. You came early enough.” Ciri pouted and dusted the back of her hand off furtively. Coria noticed that, however, and she smiled.

“My apologies, Your Highness, for I have been late. But I have not wasted a single moment ever since His Majesty gave me his decree. Two days I have spent on this journey, and two days I have not slept.”

Frexinet looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot. It was a stark contrast to his well-kept skin, though that juxtaposition only added to the horror element.

“These villains!” Ciri stomped her foot. “They want me there as soon as possible to get engaged to their pig of a prince, don’t they?” she muttered. I will not marry that pig. Ciri held her frustration down and clenched her fists tightly. Determination welled up within her eyes, and she thought, I’m going to go with the plan I came up with last night. It will work.

Frexinet had his own ideas too, however. When he knew that Calanthe had decided to marry Ciri off to Kistrin, he knew that was Ervyll’s chance to gain more power, and it was his opportunity of a lifetime as well. An opportunity to change his life. Calanthe fears Nilfgaard. She fears that they will swallow her kingdom whole. It’s a shame she’s much too stubborn and loves power more than anything. If Calanthe would just humble herself and work with the truly powerful northern kingdoms like Aedirn, Temeria, Kaedwen, and Redania, she could fend Nilfgaard off eventually.

The kings of the northern kingdoms had been trying to get their hands on Cintra, but Calanthe would never give them the chance. If she had asked Demavend, Foltest, Henselt, or Vizimir II for help, they’d use that chance to take Cintra over. Even if she could fend the Nilfgaardian army off, her kingdom would eventually be taken away.

Calanthe was only forty-three. She was healthy and had no records of being down with any illness. At the very least, she could rule Cintra through her puppet husband for about twenty more years.

Because of her obsession with power, she opted to marry her own granddaughter off to Verden. All so she could secure her grip on Cintra. If Prince Kistrin and Princess Cirilla are engaged, he can theoretically have the chance to rule Cintra. The princess is still young, and she can be manipulated easily. Besides, some accident might happen to Calanthe and kill her off.

Frexinet was getting more and more excited about that prospect, and his eyes became even more bloodshot. When that time comes, I shall be rewarded for my great service to the kingdom of Verden and Cintra.

To that end, Frexinet begged his sister to give him this chance. She was the queen of Verden, and she always thought her brother deserved more in life because he was cursed for a part of it.

The mission was risky, of course. If anything were to happen to Ciri on her way to the castle, Ervyll would send him to the guillotine. But the princess is already safe and sound in Verden. The most dangerous part of her journey has ended. Nothing could go wrong.

Ciri and Frexinet both had their own plans. They made some small talk, and they finally decided on the itinerary.

After they had breakfast, a convoy made up of two carriages and twenty horses left the governor’s estate. They were headed toward the city gates in the east, where Nostrag stood.

Not long after the convoy had departed, someone appeared from the bushes near the city gates and tailed the convoy, though the silhouette kept a distance of one mile from his quarry.

***

With the princess in the carriage, they couldn’t go too fast. In fact, they were painstakingly slow. Ciri, however, thought it was perfect for her plan.

Coria was chuckling happily. It was the first time she had seen Ciri fidgeting like a baby beast. She kept pulling the curtains back and looking around nervously. “Your Highness, you don’t seem to hate Prince Kistrin so much. I think you’re really paying attention to him.”

Ciri looked up haughtily. Suddenly, she huddled closer to her servant and stared at her intently. She touched Coria’s jacket and hat, then she looked at her own white dress. She said slowly, “Coria, tell me, have I treated you well?”

“Pr-Princess, what do you mean?” Coria’s heart skipped a beat, and she retreated to a corner. She had only seen that look of determination in Calanthe’s eyes before, and the same look in Ciri’s eyes scared her.

“Tell me!”

“You have treated me well,” Coria answered, her voice trembling. Ciri might be cheeky and mischievous, but unlike the other royals, she cared about life a lot.

“Good. Then are you loyal to me or my grandmother?”

“Your Highness. You know that I-I am your servant.”

“Good. Now listen closely.” Ciri huddled even closer to Coria. “Now is the time to show your loyalty. We’re getting out of the carriage, and then…” She whispered her plan into Coria’s ears.

“Princess, that is just…” Coria could not believe what she was hearing.

***

“It’s been twenty minutes. Why isn’t she done yet?” Frexinet was standing before a tall bush, rubbing his hands anxiously. Not long after they left Bodrog, Ciri demanded to have a little release. They couldn’t argue with her, and they stopped for Ciri to do her business. Coria went with the princess, while the men stood outside. They didn’t even urge her to go faster lest she felt crossed.

Krauze didn’t care that much, however. He knew how mischievous his princess could get, and he had a feeling this might be one of her tricks. “It has been quite a while, princess. Are you done?” he asked, then called out to Ciri twice. When he didn’t get any answer from her, he knew something was wrong. “Princess, if you’re still not answering, I will have to come over.”

The bush rustled, and someone screamed, “Guards! The princess has escaped!”

“Escaped?” Frexinet and Krauze looked at each other, and they saw the fear within their eyes. The princess’ escape gripped them with terror, and they led their men into the bushes.

What they saw, however, was Coria turning her back to them and sobbing into her hands. “Th-The princess has escaped.”

“What? H-How did you let this happen? You shall be punished once we catch up with the princess!”

“Shut up and chase after the princess! Get the horses!”

“Horses? There are bushes everywhere! We might trample over her! She’s still young! She can’t have gone far! Men, search around!” Krauze hollered, and the soldiers searched the bushes around them.

The very moment they went on the search, the ‘servant’ stopped crying. She tossed her hat up high, revealing the ashen hair and muddy face underneath. Despite her dirty looks, the girl had a smile on her face.

She went back to the carriage and got up the horse, albeit with a lot of difficulty. Then she pulled on the reins, her posture perfect.

Nobody knew Ciri could ride on horseback. It was a skill she picked up back at Skellige. She spent her time with Hjalmar and Cerys, and they had a lot of snowball fights, fishing sessions, and rode on horseback frequently back then.

“Be good, please. You don’t have to be as smart as Roy’s Wilt, but please be good to me.” She patted the horse’s mane to calm it, and she looked at the east with excitement. It was in the opposite direction of where the guards were looking for her. There was a huge plain in the east, and a smidgen of verdant lay at the end of that prairie.

For some reason, she was reminded of what Roy told her. It didn’t make sense to her back then, but now she knew what he meant.

When Roy was still in the castle, he once told her, “Your name, Cirilla, comes from Zireael in Elder Speech. It means ‘Swallow.’ The bird, not the verb. Remember, Ciri. You are a free soul. As free as a swallow who flies high up in the sky. As long as you wish to fly, then no one can trap you.”

“I won’t marry that pig. Grandmother will no longer control me. I will not bear his children! Fly, Zireael! Fly!” the girl roared quietly and held the horse’s neck as it charged eastward.

***

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