The room wasn't very large. The floor was etched with an intricate magic circle, its lines glowing with a peculiar violet luminescence. Four massive braziers stood at each corner, perpetually fueled by flames that crackled with an unnatural yellow hue. In the center of the circle, a golden gyroscope, seemingly crafted from pure gold, lay motionless.
Upon entering, Toruviel shut the door, her eyes flickering towards Wayne in a silent prompt to prepare. She then extended her arm, revealing a bracelet inscribed with arcane symbols in an unknown metal. Whispering an incantation in a low voice, she brought the bracelet to her lips.
As she spoke, the golden gyroscope in the circle's center whirred to life. With its rotation increasing, the air above the circle began to warp and distort, accompanied by a deafening rip. Within seconds, a powerful magical energy ripped open a portal above the circle, resembling a swirling vortex in the void. This was Wayne's first encounter with a witcher's portal in real life. Though he'd utilized them in his past, this was a sight to behold firsthand.
Toruviel retrieved the bracelet and met Wayne's gaze. "Unfamiliar with portals, are you, Wayne?" she inquired softly. "No need to fret. This one's under Francesca's direct control, and perfectly safe. However, the experience of translocating through space and time can be unsettling. Brace yourself; it'll be over soon."
With her final words spoken, she cast a resolute glance at Wayne before striding purposefully into the shimmering portal. A beat of hesitation later, Wayne took a deep breath, clenched his jaw, and followed suit.
Toruviel's description proved accurate. Transiting the portal was far from pleasant. It hurled him into a chaotic vortex, akin to being tossed in a high-speed washing machine. Up, down, left, right - all sense of direction dissolved into a dizzying blur. His internal organs churned, jostling uncomfortably within his body. The ordeal felt like an eternity, though in reality, it was likely only seconds.
A sudden weightlessness heralded the end. Wayne's feet connected with solid ground, his witcher training keeping him upright despite the disorientation. He raised his head, taking in his surroundings. They were inside an elven palace, its surroundings breathtakingly beautiful. Toruviel stood nearby, her body swaying slightly, a hint of pallor clinging to her face. Evidently, she too was recovering from the teleportation's aftereffects.
Moments later, the elf regained her composure. Turning towards Wayne, a smile touched her lips. Her fingers gestured towards the magnificent buildings, the vibrant flowers, and the exquisite trees that flourished around them. Pride tingled in her voice as she spoke, "Welcome to the elven palace nestled within the Valley of Flowers. Though not widely known in the past, it stands today as the most well-preserved elven edifice in the world."
Wayne scanned the scene anew, his gaze lingering on the intricate statues, the colorful murals adorning the walls, and the ingenious architectural designs. It was a scene straight out of an epic fantasy, brimming with the grandeur he had only ever imagined. However, a stark emptiness filled the palace. There were no guards in sight, no graceful elven maidens tending to their duties. An air of desolation hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the vibrancy that must have once filled these halls.
As they walked, Toruviel narrated the palace's glorious history, peppering her tale with stories that seemingly aimed to cultivate a sense of belonging within Wayne towards the elven people. While feigning rapt attention, Wayne couldn't help but harbor a sense of skepticism.
They traversed the palace grounds, passing through a magnificent hall and a sprawling back garden adorned with rockery fountains and rare trees. Finally, they arrived at a picturesque lake nestled within the palace grounds.
Even before reaching the lake, an ethereal melody, played on an elven flute, reached Wayne's ears. The music held an epic quality, its long, lingering notes weaving a tale of resilience - the rise and fall of a civilization, its struggle to rebuild a glorious kingdom from the ashes of devastation.
Following the melody, they found an exquisite gazebo. Within, an elven sorceress, breathtaking in her beauty, sat on a long chair, her long, dark golden hair cascading down her back. Dressed in a flowing white gown, she played the haunting tune with an air of deep concentration. Her sky-blue eyes held a wisdom that belied her youthful appearance. Francesca, the most powerful sorceress of her time, seemed frozen in time, radiating an otherworldly aura that set her apart from the mortal realm.
The music ceased, and a hush fell over them. Wayne exhaled a sigh, captivated by the lingering melody. Before he could voice his appreciation, the sorceress turned her gaze towards them. Her voice, melodic and pleasant, filled the air. "Welcome, Toruviel. And this, I presume, is the witcher?" Setting down the flute, she gestured towards a table laden with delectable dishes beside her. "I've had some elven delicacies prepared. Please, join me for a meal and conversation."
Toruviel bowed respectfully, and Wayne, finally regaining his composure, followed him into the gazebo.
The table wasn't overflowing with dishes. A plate held an unfamiliar fish, accompanied by a clear broth, a selection of vegetables, and various fruits. Though the portions appeared light, a delightful aroma emanated from them. To Wayne's surprise, an even more captivating scent wafted from Francesca herself. It was a unique blend, both light and alluring, reminiscent of wildflowers and the crisp air of dawn. It was the kind of fragrance that inexplicably heightened one's senses.
Before anyone touched their utensils, Toruviel reached for a bottle of elven wine and poured a glass for each of them. Francesca offered a soft word of thanks to Toruviel, then turned her clear blue eyes towards Wayne. "Forgive my limitations, Wayne," she spoke softly. "Elven cuisine tends towards subtlety, but I assure you, the flavors are quite rewarding."
With that, Wayne politely agreed, acknowledging the unfamiliar yet intriguing taste. Compared to the hearty fare of fish and meat he was accustomed to, these dishes were indeed lighter but still possessed a unique freshness.
As they dined, conversation flowed primarily around the current state of the elves and the Valley of Flowers. While Francesca exuded an air of detachment, befitting a sorceress of her age and power, her knowledge far surpassed that of any ordinary person. Her speech was clear and well-organized, punctuated by occasional lighthearted remarks that dispelled any awkwardness.
After a few minutes, Wayne settled into the rhythm of the conversation, readily sharing his own thoughts and observations. He spoke candidly about his perspective on the elves and the human kingdoms, particularly the ongoing oppression faced by non-human races. He didn't mince words:
"There is no way to do this, and it is impossible to obtain the understanding of the humans through peaceful means."
"Elves and other non-humans are inherently disadvantaged, both in population and reproductive rates. Decades of oppression have left most elves apathetic, unwilling to resist without facing dire threats."
"It's not that they lack the will to fight, but they lack a leader, a guiding force. Every race deserves a chance at a better life, but humans accustomed to exploiting non-humans won't relinquish that power easily."
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