The Witcher – Uchiha Madara!-Chapter 184 - Pushing the King of Kaedwen to the brink of his sanity.
Chapter 184 - 184 - Pushing the King of Kaedwen to the brink of his sanity.
[Chapter Size: 1900 Words.]
Third Person POV
Kaer Morhen.
...
...
"No news from the north?"
The king's voice echoed through the throne room once again, but it no longer sounded as calm and authoritative as before. The nervousness in his tone was unmistakable, while everyone lowered their heads, unable to meet his expectations. The king sat on his throne in a far more peculiar manner than usual.
His body, especially his face, was covered in marks. Despite all the efforts of the sorceress, the healers, and the scholars from the University of Oxenfurt—who had been summoned to the palace to conceal the bruises—the signs were still visible. After all, it was difficult to hide someone missing a tooth, sporting a black eye, and with a crooked nose.
After the queen found him with a broken nose, the king was immediately treated. However, as they attempted to uncover who had inflicted such injuries, even the queen herself became a suspect in harming her own husband.
She vehemently denied any involvement, finding it absurd that the court would even consider her capable of such an act. Even so, King Henselt's gaze upon her carried a certain dangerous glint in his eyes. Nevertheless, rumors continued to spread throughout the palace.
That night, the king was taken to a different and well-guarded chamber. Yet, the following morning, despite sleeping elsewhere, he was found once again injured... and now missing a tooth.
The sorceress was granted permission to read his memories, but she found nothing that indicated what was happening. For the past three days, the king had woken up wounded every morning, with no recollection of what had occurred.
He felt no pain while he slept—or at least, he didn't remember it. But the moment he woke up, agony consumed his body, terrorizing him. He screamed and screamed, demanding that the culprit be found, turning the entire court upside down and creating utter chaos in the castle. However, there was no trace of what was happening, and this only filled him with more fear.
Consumed by his fear of sleeping, the king began to drink and drink, surrounding himself with guards to prevent himself from dozing off. The previous night, he managed to avoid harm by staying awake, but he still bore the marks from the previous nights. Now, he was once again in audience, demanding answers about the witcher who had fled.
"Forgive me, my king, but we have discovered nothing about him." The man kneeling before the throne spoke cautiously, choosing his words carefully.
"We lost all traces and have been unable to track him any further. He simply vanished after abandoning his horse about forty kilometers from the capital."
The king stared at him with seething fury.
"How can you be so incompetent as to let a witcher escape like this?!" He bellowed, his voice echoing through the hall.
The surrounding nobles remained silent, tense. The king waited for a response, but none came.
"My king..." The soldier hesitated before continuing. "There is nothing we can do at the moment. We have sent soldiers in every direction... even north, but we have yet to receive any response."
The king clenched his fists, enraged. He felt that he was losing control... and that was something Henselt would never tolerate.
"How could you let this happen?! Isn't it obvious that witcher cast a curse on me?! Damn him! I want him here immediately to undo this!" The king spoke in an almost desperate tone.
Many in the room could hear the panic in his voice, which was understandable. After all, no one would want to wake up every day beaten and bruised without any explanation.
"That damned witcher! I want him eliminated immediately! Even if you have to search the entire kingdom and beyond!" The king continued, rising in anger, his fury growing with every word.
"I also want to know exactly what happened in the north! Why have none of my men returned?! Are you telling me they all died to those damned witchers?! They are toying with us, and you do nothing about it!" He bellowed, his insane gaze sweeping across the room.
"My king, please! Allow me to lead a military campaign against those damned non-humans! I will carry your banner and bring you all their heads! I will leave none alive!" A royal knight stepped forward and knelt before the king, demonstrating his loyalty and eagerness to prove his worth.
The king looked at him with tired, sunken eyes, darkened by insomnia, then nodded.
"Yes... This will certainly be done."
"But, my king..." The sorceress, Sheala de Tancarville, intervened from the side, drawing the monarch's irritated gaze.
"I know you are already searching for experts in curses, and I, too, have contacted some fellow mages along with Lord Detmold of Ban Ard. However, of all the people in this world who understand curses, the witchers have the most experience with them, my king. Perhaps they can solve your problem." The sorceress murmured, attempting to appease the situation.
"Don't come at me with that nonsense, Sheala! Do you really think I'll ask those non-humans for help?! They did this on purpose! Can't you see?! I will make them pay for everything! I will accept no other solution than hunting them to the end!" The king exploded in fury, slamming his hand against the armrest of his throne.
"As you wish, my king..." She responded with a simple nod, avoiding prolonging the argument and further angering him. After all, he was not in a normal state—he sought vengeance at any cost.
Night fell, and the king was taken to a special chamber, where he was surrounded by royal guards sworn to protect him.
"I think I'll finally get some sleep tonight..." He murmured, exhausted, feeling his body begging for rest after two days without closing his eyes.
"Yes, my king. We will take care of anything that tries to harm you." The leader of the guard assured him, maintaining a firm stance.
The king seemed calmer and, at last, gave in to his exhaustion. He sat back in a reclining armchair and soon began to snore, while his men remained vigilant around him.
However, by dawn, the scene was terrifying.
The armchair where the king had slept was drenched in blood. He woke up choking, suffocating on his own liquid. Gasping, he sat up abruptly, the metallic taste thick in his mouth.
Realizing his state, his first reaction was to bring his hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, he saw blood dripping from his fingers and froze. His eyes slowly moved from his own hand to the guards who were supposed to protect him...
What he found was a horrific scene.
The floor was covered in bodies. Blood stained the marble of the hall, seeping through the cracks of the armor, which itself was dented, as if someone had punched and kicked them with ease, judging by the marks.
But there was something even worse...
The very knight who, the day before, had vowed to lead an army against Kaer Morhen was there. His body was destroyed. Both his arms and legs were broken, twisted at unnatural angles. He was unconscious, but alive... If such a thing could even be considered living.
The king stood still for a few seconds, silent. His entire body began to tremble violently. He didn't know what to think.
He was terrified.
Then, a loud scream of "Help!" echoed through the hall, coming from the king's own mouth.
The sound quickly caught the attention of those outside, who rushed in—only to be horrified by the scene before them.
The room, which had been reinforced both inside and out the previous night, was now a scene of terror. The guards who were supposed to be standing, protecting the king, were all sprawled on the floor, unconscious, while the king himself had been beaten once again, his face covered in blood.
"My king! What happened here?!"
The first guard to enter exclaimed, but he didn't even wait for the monarch's response—if the king could even respond. He remained paralyzed, trembling with fear, without words to describe what he had witnessed.
"Guards! Call the sorceress and the healers immediately!"
Another commotion erupted within the castle.
The guards who had been in the room were treated, along with the king, while everyone tried to understand what exactly had happened. After all, only the king seemed to have slept, while the others were supposed to have remained awake to protect him.
"I... I saw..."
A weak voice came from one of the royal guards, who had finally awakened. His body was covered in bruises, and he was missing teeth. He trembled in fear, still haunted by what he had witnessed.
"It was horrifying... it flew... a white cloak..."
"What did you see?"
The king's advisors exchanged glances, frowning. Even the sorceress stepped closer, leaning in to hear better.
"She... she was flying through the air..."
The royal guard murmured, his voice heavy with sheer terror.
"We were stunned... then she let out a tremendous scream. I don't know how no one heard it... it was deafening, terrifying! The next moment, we couldn't do anything... We were just there, frozen... paralyzed while that thing approached and started playing with us."
The guard's eyes widened as he recalled the scene.
"She enjoyed it while each of us screamed in pain..."
The room fell into tense silence.
The king, who still could not remember anything, merely looked around, trying to find some logical explanation. But the truth was clear to everyone: something had entered the castle. Something the guards swore was a supernatural entity.
"That should be enough..."
A calm, distant voice echoed from above.
On the roof, in a blind spot invisible to the rest of the city, Madara sat, observing the events unfold. It had been easy for him to enter the room and put all the royal guards under a genjutsu, implanting in their minds the idea that they had faced a malevolent spirit.
He recalled ghost stories, even though he had never seen one in this world. But that didn't matter. He had created the perfect illusion. Now, everyone in the castle believed they were dealing with an entity only a witcher could handle.
And that was enough.
Madara was in no hurry. His intention was simple: to feed the king's terror until his rage turned into fear. Until, with no other way out, Henselt abandoned his pride and sought help. And no one else in the castle would help him—he needed the Witchers.
Madara would make sure of it.
Meanwhile, days later...
The witchers finally spotted something familiar on the distant horizon.
Kaer Morhen.
"So... this is the witchers' castle?"
Dandelion murmured, gazing at the structure with fascination gleaming in his eyes. It was the first time he had ever seen the legendary fortress.
"Just don't talk too much inside." Geralt cast him a sidelong glance.
"Why?!"
"Vesemir might not like chatterboxes."
Dandelion scoffed, feigning indignation.
"Wait, you think I'm annoying?! No one has ever complained about that! Everyone says I'm a talented bard, a brilliant and charismatic young man! An excellent conversationalist!"
Coen merely chuckled, while Geralt continued walking, completely ignoring the bard's endless chatter.
The question now was: would Vesemir throw him out of Kaer Morhen?
Perhaps it was best not to take the risk.
-------------Nexts Chapters ----------------
Chapter 189 - Dealing with King Henselt 03.
Chapter 194 - The Chaos Between Humans and Non-Humans 02.
Chapter 204 - Playing with a dragon.
Chapter 213 - New Elemental Release.
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