Chapter 78: Final Preparations
Four months until Cintra fell.
The timeline burned in my awareness like countdown to catastrophe—every day closer to the invasion I'd spent years preparing for. The guild had done everything possible: supply caches positioned, evacuation routes mapped, alliances secured, warnings sent.
Now came the final phase: ensuring every member could survive what was coming.
"Skill distribution meeting," I announced, gathering leadership at Kaer Morhen via Group Teleportation. "War preparation enters final stage."
Viktor materialized first, followed by Mira, Brennan, and the senior members I'd summoned. The disorientation of group transport was becoming familiar—they recovered within seconds, moving to positions around the great hall's planning table.
"You're spending more GP on skills," Mira said, recognizing the pattern from previous distributions.
"Every member receives two books. Basic Healing and Danger Sense." I'd calculated the investment obsessively. "Total cost: approximately five thousand GP. We can't afford it, but we can't afford not to."
"Basic Healing for combat medics?"
"Basic Healing for everyone. When battles create casualties, I need every member capable of treating wounds—their own and others'. Professional healers won't be available when kingdoms are burning."
[SKILL DISTRIBUTION PLAN]
[Basic Healing (500 GP each): 20 members = 10,000 GP]
[Danger Sense (800 GP each): 20 members = 16,000 GP]
[Note: Orphan program excluded (not full members yet)]
[Total Required: 26,000 GP]
[Current GP: 1,200]
[Deficit: 24,800 GP]
The mathematics were impossible. I didn't have twenty-six thousand GP. I wouldn't have it for years at normal accumulation rates.
"The cost exceeds our resources," Viktor observed, reading the calculations.
"I'll distribute in phases. Critical members first—combat operatives, outpost managers, anyone in high-risk positions. Others as GP allows." I began marking priority assignments. "The important thing is capability building before war starts. Perfect coverage matters less than baseline preparation."
The first skill distribution covered twelve members—the most essential personnel.
Viktor received both books simultaneously, the knowledge transferring with the familiar flash of light and momentary disorientation.
"That's... different." He flexed his hands experimentally. "I can feel wounds now. Not just see them—feel their severity, understand what treatment they need."
"Basic Healing enhances intuition about injury. The actual treatment still requires effort, but you'll know what needs to happen."
"And Danger Sense?"
"Background awareness of threats. Not overwhelming—just persistent low-level alertness that intensifies when something dangerous approaches." I moved to the next member. "You'll adapt within days. The skills become natural rather than intrusive."
The distribution continued through the morning—combat operatives, outpost managers, senior administrators. Each member absorbed the skills with varying degrees of adjustment, the knowledge settling into their capabilities like new muscle memory.
[SKILL DISTRIBUTION: WAVE 1]
[Members Enhanced: 12]
[GP Expended: 15,600]
[Current GP Balance: -14,400]
[Remaining Members: 8 (pending future distribution)]
The GP debt was staggering—worse than any previous depletion. But the enhanced members could now treat battlefield injuries and detect approaching threats. When chaos came, these skills would save lives that medical logistics couldn't reach.
The afternoon shifted to operational preparation.
"Weekly evacuation drills at every outpost," I explained, demonstrating protocols on the planning table maps. "Standard procedure: alarm signal, equipment grab, designated exit, rally point assembly."
"We've practiced evacuation before," Brennan noted.
"Not like this. Before was theoretical—practicing for emergencies that might happen. Now we're practicing for specific scenarios we know are coming." I marked locations on the Vizima map. "When Nilfgaardian armies move north, Vizima becomes frontline territory. Evacuation from that outpost needs to happen within fifteen minutes of alarm."
"Fifteen minutes for full equipment grab?"
"Fifteen minutes for essential equipment—pre-packed emergency kits, communication crystals, personal weapons. Everything else is replaceable. People aren't."
The drill protocols were detailed: alarm signals that couldn't be mistaken for normal activity, equipment positions that allowed rapid access, exit routes that avoided obvious chokepoints, rally points distant enough to be safe but close enough to reach quickly.
"Emergency Recall procedures," I continued, addressing the most critical capability. "I can teleport one person per day from anywhere in the Northern Kingdoms. This is last-resort extraction—if someone is captured, trapped, or otherwise unable to evacuate normally."
"Priority for the recall?"
"Outpost managers first—they have operational knowledge that enemies shouldn't acquire. Then members with specialized skills that can't be replaced. Then anyone else in immediate life-threatening danger." I met each leader's eyes. "I can only save one person per day. Choose carefully who goes on the priority list."
The final preparation was political rather than operational.
"Guild neutrality declaration," I said, producing the formal documents I'd prepared. "Copies go to every Northern Kingdom and to Nilfgaard through neutral intermediaries."
Mira examined the declaration with professional attention.
The Covenant of Blades hereby declares neutrality in any conflicts between sovereign nations. The guild commits to: (1) refusing military contracts from all parties to conflicts, (2) continuing civilian protection services regardless of territorial control, (3) providing humanitarian assistance to all populations regardless of political allegiance, (4) maintaining operational presence in all territories where guild services are requested by civilian authorities.
"This protects us from both sides?"
"This creates framework where both sides might tolerate our presence. We're not threats to either party—just monster hunters who don't care about politics." I signed the primary document. "Nilfgaard might actually appreciate it. They'll need monster hunters in conquered territories, and we're offering to work regardless of who controls the land."
"And the Northern Kingdoms?"
"Will see us as cowards who won't fight for our homeland. Which is fine—their opinion matters less than survival." I sealed the document with guild insignia. "When the war ends, whoever wins will need organizations that remained functional. Neutrality positions us as useful rather than enemy."
Viktor's expression carried the conflict of a former military man watching political maneuvering he couldn't entirely approve.
"You're planning to survive while kingdoms fall around us."
"I'm planning to preserve the organization through crisis so we can help rebuild afterward. That requires existing when rebuilding starts." I met his eyes. "I'm not abandoning anyone. The supply caches, the evacuation routes, the enhanced training—all of that helps people survive. But the guild itself must endure for those resources to matter."
"And if staying neutral means watching atrocities without intervening?"
"Then we intervene anyway and claim it was monster hunting." The dark humor of impossible choices. "Neutrality is political position, not moral mandate. We do what's right while maintaining cover that keeps us operational."
That evening, I reviewed preparation status with exhaustive attention.
[GUILD STATUS: FINAL PREPARATIONS]
[Members: 24 (20 official + 4 affiliate Witchers)]
[Outposts: 10 (4 major, 6 regional)]
[Supply Caches: 20 (positioned along evacuation routes)]
[Enhanced Members: 12 (Basic Healing + Danger Sense)]
[Pending Enhancement: 8 (awaiting GP accumulation)]
[Treasury: 36 crowns]
[GP: -14,400 (massive debt, rebuilding)]
[Neutrality: Declared (documentation distributed)]
[Warnings: Sent (dismissed)]
[Evacuation Protocols: Active (weekly drills)]
[War Timeline: ~4 months]
Everything possible had been done. The guild was as prepared as limited resources allowed. When Nilfgaard crossed the Yaruga, when Cintra's walls fell, when Ciri fled into chaos—we would be ready.
"Four months. Four months until everything I've built gets tested. Four months until the girl who matters more than kingdoms needs help I've spent years positioning to provide."
The message crystal glowed with incoming communication—Tom reporting from his intelligence network, more observations about Nilfgaardian preparations that nobody else believed were significant.
I reached for the crystal and began the next conversation, the next step toward whatever future was coming.
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