The platoon, camped among some willows by a pond, leapt up on seeing him.

‘Make ready!’ roared Zyvik, standing a good way back, so that the smell of his breath would not influence the morale of his subordinates. ‘Before the sun rises another four fingers there’ll be a full inspection! Everything’s to be shining like the sun. Arms, tack, trappings and your mounts. There will be an inspection, and if I have to be ashamed of one of you before the centurion, I’ll tear that soldier’s legs off. Look lively!’

‘We’re going into battle,’ guessed cavalryman Kraska, tucking his shirt quickly into his trousers. ‘Are we going into battle, Decurion, sir?’

‘What do you think? Or maybe we’re off to a dance, to a Lammas party? We’re crossing the frontier. The entire Dun Banner sets off tomorrow at dawn. The centurion didn’t say in what array, but we know our platoon will be leading as usual. Now look lively, move your arses! Hold on, come back. I’ll say this right now, because there’ll be no time later. It won’t be a typical little war, lads. The honourable gentlemen have thought up some modern idiocy. Some kind of liberation, or some such. We aren’t going to fight the enemy, but we’re heading towards our, what was it, eternal lands, to bring, you know, fraternal help. Now pay attention to what I say: you’re not to touch the folk of Aedirn, not to loot—’

‘What?’ said Kraska, mouth agape. ‘What do you mean, don’t loot? And what are we going to feed our horses on, Decurion, sir?’

‘You can loot fodder for the horses, but nothing else. Don’t cut anyone up, don’t burn any cottages down, don’t destroy any crops… Shut your trap, Kraska! This isn’t a village gathering. It’s the fucking army! Carry out the orders or you hang! I said: don’t kill, don’t murder, and don’t—’

Zyvik broke off and pondered.

‘And if you rape any women, do it on the quiet. Out of sight,’ he finished a moment later.

‘They shook hands,’ finished Dandelion, ‘on the bridge on the River Dyfne. Margrave Mansfeld of Ard Carraigh and Menno Coehoorn, the commander-in-chief of the Nilfgaardian armies from Dol Angra. They shook hands over the bleeding, dying Kingdom of Aedirn, sealing a criminal division of the spoils. The most despicable gesture history has ever known.’

Geralt remained silent.

‘On the subject of despicableness,’ he said, surprisingly calmly, a moment later, ‘what about the sorcerers, Dandelion? The ones from the Chapter and the Council.’

‘Not one of them remained with Demavend,’ began the poet, soon after, ‘while Foltest drove all those who had served him out of Temeria. Philippa is in Tretogor, helping Queen Hedwig to bring the chaos reigning in Redania under control. With her is Triss and three others, whose names I can’t recall. Several of them are in Kaedwen. Many of them escaped to Kovir and Hengfors. They chose neutrality, because Esterad Thyssen and Niedamir, as you know, were, and are, neutral.’