"Mr. Graz, are you coming along too?" Witt asked Old Graz, who had yet to leave.
"Yes, I need that griffin's corpse for research."
Witt looked at Miley. The female elf before him still seemed to be studying just what it was about him that attracted her.
Only when she felt Witt's gaze did Miley conceal her puzzlement. She looked Old Graz up and down and said, "Old Graz of Kovir, I hope you are making this request as a mage rather than as a human..."
Old Graz paid no mind to Miley's slightly coercive attitude. In his eyes, all the creatures on this continent were children of nature.
"It has been a long time since I concerned myself with conflicts between humans and nonhumans. Kovir's neutral stance is my stance."
The United Kingdom of Poviss and Kovir was a neutral kingdom in the far north. Nestled against the Dragon Mountains and boasting two world-famous port cities, it possessed abundant mineral resources and plentiful catches of fish, making it the ideal home coveted by those weary of strife.
Miley nodded and said, "Then follow me, but you must wear blindfolds."
With that, an elven archer behind her handed the three of them blindfolds, his eyes full of wariness.
Under the elven archer's watchful gaze, the three covered their eyes. Witt's slight ability to sense chaos magic kept him from feeling completely helpless.
"Keep up and don't wander off. I won't be responsible if you step into a trap." The elves hemmed the three of them in, preventing Witt and the others from moving about freely.
Blindfolded and following Miley's footsteps, Witt felt intensely curious. Weren't these elves following the Nilfgaardian Empire's orders to sow unrest in the northern territories? Why would they remain in one place for so long, refusing to abandon it even when supplies were scarce?
Weren't they Scoia'tael?
In 1262, the northern kings still thought nothing of these nonhuman races. It was not until the First Northern War a year later that the Scoia'tael's reputation for valor truly resounded across the continent, making the Northern Kingdoms, which had long discriminated against them so deeply, suffer bitterly.
After walking through the darkness for an unknown length of time, a rich aroma like roasting meat drifted into Witt's nostrils, tantalizing his taste buds.
"We're here."
Witt removed his blindfold at those words. The prolonged darkness had left his eyes somewhat uncomfortable, but once he could see what lay before him clearly again, he understood why Miley had been so cautious.
This was a camp built upon ancient elven ruins. No wonder Miley and the others had been so reluctant to abandon it.
For elves, aside from the forests they depended on for survival, perhaps the only thing left worth cherishing was their past glory.
Hidden within the forest, the elven ruins had long since lost their former splendor. Huge, ancient trees surrounded them, and that was also why humans had not discovered them.
Most of the buildings within the ruins had collapsed or suffered severe damage. The once-bustling streets and squares were now overgrown with weeds, and an air of melancholy and mystery pervaded the ruins.
At the center, a building with an enormous dome, once supported by massive white stones, had already collapsed. Vegetation wound its way up and covered the stones, lending the place a hollow vitality.
From the moment Old Graz removed his blindfold and stepped into the ruins, his exclamations of amazement never stopped.
"Heavens, my goddess, this... this..." He ran to the ground before the enormous palace and crouched down, pulling hard at the weeds and moss covering the white stone paving with his hands.
From the elven history he had studied, Old Graz knew that when the ancient elves built palaces, they always constructed an enormous square in front and carved a distinctive ancient elven magic circle into it, to be used for important magical rituals and festival celebrations.
As long as Old Graz could see the entire magic circle, he could discover its name and the elven sage who had created it, then uncover just who this palace had been built for.
A palace this enormous would have been rare even in the thousand years of the elves' glorious history. It could not possibly have been so obscure.
"Witt! Come give me a hand." Seeing how slowly he was progressing, he realized he needed a helper.
Witt hurried over to help at his call. He had been examining the ancient elven writing on the stone walls inside the palace, hoping to learn the origins of these elven ruins.
But with only a cursory study of the continent's history and basic alchemy, all he could understand were the meanings of some of the runes. For anything more, he could only turn to this learned mage for answers.
Geralt paid no attention to his two companions' thirst to uncover the ruins' origins. He walked over to the fragrant fire, picked up a freshly roasted piece of meat, and began eating without ceremony.
"This was agreed upon earlier. Part of the payment," Geralt told an elven archer who was about to flare up.
He did not care how much history these elven ruins held.
So what if they had once been incomparably glorious? Now they could only fade into memory. Had elves like Miley not discovered them, they would either have ended up buried deep underground in a landslide or become a perfect nesting ground for some mountain monsters.
Seeing that he and Old Graz had only cleared one corner of the magic circle after pulling at the weeds for so long, Witt could not help suggesting, "Why don't we use magic to burn all these weeds away?"
"I would like to save myself the trouble too, but we must be extremely cautious with these mysterious elven magic circles. Any act of casting magic will stir the otherwise stable chaos magic in the air. If we accidentally activate the elven magic circle, the consequences could be immeasurable!"
Faced with a discovery that might shock the world, the usually gentle and refined Old Graz showed a rare loss of composure.
"Don't waste your effort. I know the answer." Miley, who had been silently observing the three of them nearby for some time, finally spoke.
Wholly absorbed, Old Graz remained sprawled on the ground, muttering to himself as he worked, "Judging by the techniques used to carve the stone pillars, this palace is probably no less ancient than the one in Dol Blathanna. It may predate Tivissough, the last elven king."
"This was Tivissough's palace, the Winter Palace." Miley pulled up the old mage, who was still sprawled on the ground "weeding." The elves' extraordinary physical abilities allowed her to do so with ease.
Old Graz froze, then asked, "How do you know?"
Miley walked to the edge of the white stone road and parted the weeds, revealing an exquisite stone slab beneath them inscribed in ancient elven.
Through Old Graz's translation, Witt learned that what it recorded was indeed the history of the Winter Palace's construction and its owner, Tivissough, the last elven king.
"To think that Tivissough was also exiled here five hundred years ago. How poignant," Old Graz sighed.
"Who else was exiled here?" Witt asked.
"Filavandrel aén Fidháil of the Silver Towers, once the ruler of Dol Blathanna, now an exile."
At that name, Miley's expression immediately grew tense.
The change in her expression was so obvious that even Witt noticed, let alone Old Graz.
"Don't worry, young elven lady. Old Graz has long since grown weary of strife. The discovery of a long-abandoned palace will do nothing for the elves' current plight, even if it is Tivissough's palace," Old Graz said.
"Long since grown weary of strife? That's only because you were the victors."